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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983510">a breath i don't remember holding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/pseuds/GStK'>GStK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>starsewn &amp; cosmic memory [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:47:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/pseuds/GStK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>i like that you don't like me. really.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Belial/Lucilius (Granblue Fantasy), Belial/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy), Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>starsewn &amp; cosmic memory [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a breath i don't remember holding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihazuki/gifts">somnicordia (hihazuki)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHangedMan/gifts">TheHangedMan</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic features characters engaging in sex work. While no depictions are intended in a negative light,<br/>please be aware and stay safe.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Why </em> is not the right question here.</p><p>People ask the wrong things. When. How? What and what for?</p><p>The reasons don’t always matter. The timing isn’t important. The motivation and reasoning and judgement can all go in the garbage.</p><p>Here’s a better question: does he like it?</p><p>If he likes it, there’s nothing else that needs to be said.</p><p>If he wants it, that’s the end of the argument.</p><p>If he needs it, then no one else has a means to object.</p><p>If he desires it above all else, friends-air-family-water-freedom-lovers be damned, he will have it.</p><p>And they will be damned.</p><p>Enjoy the show.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Is it not hard, when the world proceeds without you? </em>
</p><p>Sandalphon raises his chin, this little bit, angling his nose up just so. “What kind of question is that?”</p><p><em> You tell me</em>.</p><p>He looks aside, bored and annoyed and enticed and irritated and curious. “That sounds like something…”</p><p><em> Like something Lucifer would ask you</em>.</p><p>“Yeah.” Sandalphon shuts his eyes, summons the ghost behind them. He opens them back up and returns without revelation. “Unfortunately, he’s not that mean.”</p><p>And Belial laughs.</p><p>“You’re damn right!” he agrees. “Unfortunately, he’s not that mean.”</p><p>Which is why they’re here. You could accept that as the reason, if you wanted. Nobody’s stopping you. Or you could wait, and listen, and hold onto your horses. Why do you have to answer the <em> why </em> so quickly?</p><p>Sandalphon doesn’t do so well with silence. He’s sat with it too long. Him and the quiet, they’ve exhausted all topics, all compliments, any and all observations to make about the other. Now they just sit uncomfortably together, avoiding company whenever possible. Sandalphon is the one to speak first again. “What would you know about Lucifer that I don’t?”</p><p>“A hell of a lot more,” replies Belial. He soaks in the discomfited way Sandalphon shifts across the table. “I remember plenty more about him than you do, for starters. Also, I’ve <em>been</em> around a lot more than you have. In more ways than one.” He licks his lips.</p><p>“Around Lucifer?” Sandalphon asks cautiously.</p><p>“Around Lucifer, around Lucilius, why-- around the block a fair few times, if you catch my drift.” Belial laughs. “Oh, don’t give me that look. Lucifer’s never been one to take the bait. And Cil isn’t a problem you have to worry about right now.”</p><p>Sandalphon is silent with his hands in his lap. You would not think, from his stiff posture and the superior angle of his chin, that he had willingly stepped into this den of comfort and asked for a partner. This isn’t their first time talking, but it’s the first time Sandalphon has <em> paid </em> for him, with all intention.</p><p>Speaking of that. “Sandy. Why don’t you slide on over here?” Belial pats the space next to him evocatively. “We can talk more about the things you’ve missed over a couple drinks.”</p><p>Naturally, looks with the intent to kill are slid across the table like cards at a casino. One way or another, Sandalphon ends up next to him, and they both end up with drinks in their hands. (A shaken whiskey for Belial, and a Winter Wonderland for Sandy, if you were so curious.)</p><p>“Tell me,” Sandalphon says firmly, “Just how <em> much </em> I’ve missed.”</p><p>“Years.” Sandalphon kicks him with the side of his heel. Belial cows, massaging his shin, heart bursting in nostalgic affection when he’s reminded of the one he loves. “Okay, okay. You’ve missed a couple centuries. We have a bunch of new countries. There was the witch trials, the mechanical revolutions, the inquisitions, the cultural rebellion…”</p><p>“That doesn’t sound like ‘a couple’ centuries, Belial.”</p><p>“You’re right. It’s closer to 6.” Belial drinks in the slow-growing horror trapped beneath the wavering mask on Sandalphon’s face. “And Lucifer’s been part of every generation. Thankfully, so have I. Standard education will <em> not </em> tell you what they let me do with a whip.”</p><p>Sandalphon does not want to hear what he does with a whip. His eyes wander, stroking over the plush maroon walls and the neon decorations, pausing when he sees the cage next to the bed. “What is that.”</p><p>Belial snorts into his whiskey. “What does it look like, Sandy?”</p><p>“... you keep slaves here?”</p><p>His smirk meets frustrated, disgusted eyebrows pinning together on a scrunched-up face. He loves that look. “Only when the client’s interested. <em> Are </em> you interested?”</p><p>“I’m interested to know why you say you were such an important part of history, and now you’re here, in this…” Sandalphon waves an audacious hand at the room, the den, the concept.</p><p>Belial, being Belial, shrugs and throws one of his arms over the back of the seat. “Sex work is a long-standing profession, Sandy. We operate entirely within the law. There’s regulations, salaries… ahhh. I don’t want to talk about the boring stuff. Ask me something different.”</p><p>Sandalphon is miffed. He’s been miffed. He drains his drink and sets it with purpose down on the table. “Where’s Lucilius?”</p><p>“Haven’t seen him for fifty years, honey. Any day now.” When Sandalphon is quiet again, Belial does him the favour of breaking it. “Some of us take time to come back. I couldn’t tell you how it works.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Sandalphon snaps. “You’re the archangel of cunning --”</p><p>“-- and certainly not a god! Come on, now.” It does, however, tug a nugget of truth from his lips. Belial muses, “I’m sure it has to do with what the soul is capable of when they’re reborn, and in what manner they died. Cil is a first-rate genius who usually causes economic collapse, so.” He waves a hand, a motion for <em> it’s obvious</em>.</p><p>“So,” Sandalphon repeats. Belial sighs at him.</p><p>“<b>So</b>, Cil was a renowned artist whose works provoked people to question the gender binary and ended with him getting assassinated.”</p><p>It’s Sandalphon’s turn to snort. Belial takes a look at him. “And once again, the archangel of cunning wasn’t able to save him.”</p><p>Yeah, yeah. Strike for the heart. When it comes to sloppy insults, Sandalphon’s second-to-none. “And <em> you </em> sacrificed yourself six hundred years ago to save Lucifer from being beheaded for a crime neither you nor he were guilty of. And after all of that, Lucifer didn’t even remember your name.”</p><p>The attacking silence resumes its assault. Belial drinks his whiskey. Sandalphon thinks about killing himself. Just Normal Angel Things.</p><p>“He doesn’t remember me now, either,” Sandalphon whispers, so soft it’s hard for Belial to catch.</p><p>“When has he ever remembered you?” At the glare he receives, he adds, “It’s oh-kay. He doesn’t remember me either.” </p><p>Sandalphon gives a little start. His heel brushes Belial’s shin again. Belial shudders. “Tell me,” Sandalphon snaps.</p><p>“Lucifer never remembers you, me, anyone at all. I’ve seen him marry mortal women. I’ve seen him look past Gabriel without understanding. What do you want me to tell you?”</p><p>“... tell me why,” grits out Sandalphon.</p><p>A big, big sigh this time, all while Belial finishes off the last of his whiskey. “Why did you offer your neck when Lucifer was accused of being a false prophet?”</p><p>Sandalphon answers immediately. “He’d done nothing wrong. It was the Speaker who--”</p><p>“Right, right! The Speaker!” Belial slams his palm on the table. Though it’s jovial, Sandalphon jumps again. “He who dips in and out of the millennia whenever he likes and makes life hell for all of us! He’s the one who caused Lucifer’s little problem back then? Huh. Never noticed.”</p><p>“You…!”</p><p>But Sandalphon won’t raise a hand against him. Their knees bumping, Belial leans the slightest bit in, closing their proximity. “There’s your answer. Why Lucifer doesn’t remember anything -- why we keep being reborn -- why history and evolution proceed apace without the Supreme Primarch at the helm! It’s all the Speaker’s fault. Take it or leave it. But seriously, take it. I’ve been <em> aching</em>.”</p><p>“... you’re wrong,” Sandalphon breathes. Belial grunts at him, and Sandalphon drops his head. “Evolution continues because the sky has no need of the Primarchs any more. They don’t need us.” For the rest of the accusations, he remains silent. He does not have the answers.</p><p>Belial drums the table with his fingers, reaching for a cigarette pack that’s no longer at his waist, frowning when he comes up empty. He restores their distance and crosses his legs. The string music continues, muffled, in the background. “You keep asking me these questions, Sandy. Why, why, why. Have you considered that’s not the question to be asking?”</p><p>Sandalphon pinches his brows together. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I mean,” he resumes, forming his hand into a fist, “You should be asking yourself what you’re doing right now, sitting here with me, instead of bouncing yourself on Lucifer’s dick.”</p><p>His client’s face screws up in predictable anger, disgust, then… then, defeat. He sighs angrily, pushing his bangs out of his face. He opens his mouth and shuts it, stands up, slams both his hands on the table and sinks all his weight into it. “I don’t know! I don’t know.”</p><p>“Then I have one more question for you, Sandy.” Brown eyes turn over to him, on the cusp of suggestibility. “Why don’t you get started with me?”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>Belial grins, and that’s all he needs. “Let’s show you what you’ve missed.”</p>
<hr/><p>Sandalphon slams his heel into the top of the cage. The entire thing rattles, a metal-on-metal parade, the chains decorating the roof jingling. “You’re such a piece of shit.”</p><p>“Yes!” Belial agrees, bowed on his knees, curled over himself.</p><p>“Do you have any idea how disgusting I find you?”</p><p>“Yesss,” Belial says, nodding his face into his hands. He jolts with pleasure when the heel delivers another threatening <em> crash.</em></p><p>“Shut up,” Sandalphon says without emotion. Stronger, he repeats, “Shut the fuck up. Shut up!”</p><p>He kicks the cage many times, harder still when Belial won’t hold back his moans. A solid <em> thump </em> tells Belial Sandalphon has seated himself on the cage. Two beautiful legs peer at him from beyond the gap. One heel is crossed over the other, dangling, swinging freely as if his captor is deciding how exactly to punish him.</p><p>He trembles with the anticipation.</p><p>“You ruined my life,” Sandalphon says quietly. He braces both of his hands back on the cage, leaning back. “You ruined everything. You and Lucilius. We could’ve been happy. Nothing had to change. And now, now... “</p><p>“Now?” presses Belial.</p><p>Sandalphon’s voice becomes thin with rage. “Even now, you’re keeping me from him.”</p><p>Ah, that sin isn’t his! But he’s the only one who understands and the only one upon which Sandalphon can take out his frustration. Belial squeezes his thighs together, his cock hard and trapped between his tight leather pants. Sandalphon speaks with beats of anger and he only grows harder by the second.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Sandalphon says.</p><p>“Sandy,” Belial laughs, pressing his hands to the inside of the roof. It’s almost like holding hands but not at all. “Unless you try, Lucifer won’t ever love you.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck </em> you.”</p><p>“You can, if you want, but that won’t change anything. Lucifer doesn’t remember you.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck you</em>!”</p><p>Belial has to restrain himself from finishing then and there. Sandalphon bangs on the cage, over and over. The screws are starting to come loose on the whole thing. Belial licks his lips and says, in a shaky voice, “And every single life, you’ll have to start over from scratch.”</p><p>Sandalphon delivers such a strong kick to the cage that it comes entirely apart. He clicks his tongue when none of the metal gets in Belial’s eyes.</p><p>Belial, looking up at him, shows him his tongue.</p><p>Sandalphon sets his heel on his back.</p><p>“I’m gonna--”</p><p>“No, you’re not,” snaps Sandalphon. Belial moans. “You’ll do exactly as I tell you.”</p>
<hr/><p>The wrong question; the right answer.</p><p> </p><p>He is</p><p>hands tied above in head</p><p>in the same red scarf he brought inside</p><p>sweat on his brow, kissed away</p><p>by lips that have worshiped Edith’s statue for millennia.</p><p> </p><p>He is</p><p>the little orphan staring wide at his soulmate,</p><p>a scholar passing by the slums</p><p>bringing alms to the blind.</p><p> </p><p>He is</p><p>an old man, weary, weary</p><p>fading gaze to starlight</p><p>contemplating blackened limbs</p><p>while the priest closed his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He is</p><p>the teenager with his head in a vice</p><p>staring out at the gathered crowds</p><p>wanting vengeance for an imagined crime</p><p>losing his head for a man that doesn’t know him.</p><p> </p><p>He is Sandalphon, always, always, the same name, isn’t it so obvious? He’s a bursting supernova that rallies the children to push the sultan’s statue down, that teaches the ill their prayers, that claims the words of a false prophet all for love, love, love.</p><p>He is hands bound and knees weak and legs spread wide, lips bitten red, barking orders at the man who spreads them.</p><p>Belial chuckles from above. “Always knew you would be feisty.”</p><p>“Stop talking.”</p><p>“Always wanted that first experience for myself,” he continues, pumping in, out, in, out, making Sandalphon seasick and dizzy. “But the Singularity had to go and make a man out of you before I could. Been a while since you heard that name, Sandy? Singularity.”</p><p>“Shut up--”</p><p>“They appear sometimes. They’re not an angel, but I guess the boat needs rocking now and again. Gran, Djeeta, doesn’t matter. They do what they always do. And what do you think I did to them, Sandy? Hm? Oh, <em> yeah,</em> just like that.”</p><p>Sandalphon doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to <em> think </em>. Enough of this; enough of Belial. Enough with the whole damn thing. Can’t they all just explode into stardust?</p><p>“They made a man out of you, and I made a man, hah, and woman, out of them. Don’t worry! Calm down! I was real careful and made sure they had a great time,” Belial chuckles.</p><p>“And what about me?” Sandalphon pants.</p><p>“Hmmm? Come again?”</p><p>“What about <b>me</b>,” he says once more, arching into his tangle of red scarf when Belial hits the right spot in him at the right time. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t stop himself. He moans.</p><p>“Seems like,” Belial marvels, “I’m taking care of you just fine. Got a complaint, Sandy?”</p><p>Sandalphon grunts and pushes his still-heeled toe into Belial’s side. “I’m in charge here.”</p><p>“Oh, hey! He’s still got some fire in him!”</p><p>Enough with the taunts. Sandalphon kicks Belial again, and he wraps a leg around him to draw him so close their lips are nearly touching. Belial’s mouth is spread in an encouraging grin.</p><p>“You do as I say,” Sandalphon echoes.</p><p>Belial gives him a mock salute. “As you wish, Supreme Primarch.” Then he pushes Sandalphon’s face into the pillows and fucks him hard, ‘til it really starts to hurt. “How’s that? Seeing stars?”</p><p>“All I’m seeing is an asshole,” he grinds out, muffled through the sheets he’s having to bite. His saliva wets the pillows but he can’t free his hands to wipe it away.</p><p>“Anyone else here -- not that you have a vendetta to fuck out of anyone else,” Belial muses, “But any of the other workers here would let you be the pillow princess you are. But me? No. No, Sandy, that’s not the way this is going to go.”</p><p>He flips them over, puts Sandalphon on his stomach, face still in the sheets and hips hanging in the air. A new angle and new depths to which he can thrust. Sandalphon has to choke down every single cry that threatens to leave him.</p><p>“You have a cage,” he hisses, “In your fucking room!”</p><p>“I do! Very observant, and very kind of you to treat me. I like all kinds of play.” Belial kisses Sandalphon on the shoulder. Sandalphon makes-- tries to make a sound of warning. He fails miserably. “The years make a man weary and very needy. But you! Allll this history we’ve got, and you think buying me for the night is going to let you boss me around… that’s bold. That’s the same boldness that Lucifer used to carry around too.”</p><p>“Don’t you <em> dare </em> talk about him.”</p><p>Belial has the gall to make an offended scoff. “He and I were born together. Twins, except he was a little bit taller. Littttttle bit more perfect, you know. Perfection is easy to maintain when you’re the supreme ruler of the skies, ain’t it? Not so much when you’re down here with the common people.”</p><p>Sandalphon stiffens. His mouth moves without him, now, surrendering sounds that Belial seems to slurp up greedily. He feels the hot press of Belial at his back, and his serpentine voice comes in to slither right against his ear.</p><p>“You wouldn’t know because you haven’t seen it, Sandy. But I know. Each iteration of him is a little less kind than the last. He’s got the same courage, same blindness as ever, but the spirit’s leaking out of him. How long do you think we’ll have to play this game before he turns just as corrupt as the enemies you swore to kill? Enemies like me, like Cil.”</p><p>Sandalphon, bearing the weight of himself and another man onto his bound hands, feels them begin to tingle as the numbness passes. He stares straight at the headpost. There’s music above their heads, some lavender scent in the air, but it goes in through one filter and exits out the next. He can’t grab onto anything for purchase.</p><p>“This is what you wanted,” Belial confirms against his neck, leaving a mark here and there. Sandalphon thinks he feels blood trickle down his sternum. “You wanted me to talk about Lucifer. Tell you what you were missing. You also wanted to get your screws loosened a little, so here I am, screwing you. I’m holding up my end of the deal. <em> Where’s yours</em>?”</p><p>“I paid you, asshole,” he snaps, but he knows that’s not what they’re talking about. This has all gone a much different, much more unpleasant direction than expected. Pain and pleasure are mixing together at the base of his spine, ice chills running up the vertebrae, searing hot gathering in his stomach.</p><p>“You paid for sex, but have you paid back for everything you took from me? Hm?” Now Belial’s tone grows cold, and he takes Sandalphon’s weeping cock in hand. “Answer me, Sandy. I know you have it in you.”</p><p>“I--”</p><p>“You’re a bomb that only comes twice a millennium, but now I have you. It sure feels great, but your body isn’t great enough to zero everything out.”</p><p>“I’ll fucking kill you,” Sandalphon swears, and as he’s drawn out to his very last thread, he sobs into his hands and cums.</p><p>Belial works him through it, licking his lips, laughing darkly. “You and what wings, Sandy?”</p><p>
  <em> You, and what wings? </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“It’s not poisoned,” Belial chirps when Sandalphon stares sceptically at the mug on the table. He wiggles his own, steam rising from the top. “I might be into some weird stuff, but even I draw a line nowadays.”</p><p>Sandalphon scoffs and retrieves the mug, sipping experimentally. It’s coffee -- black, the way he likes it. “You? Draw a line?” He’s in one of the velvet bathrobes provided from near the shower. There was a heart-shaped jacuzzi in there, too, but he’d steered far clear of it.</p><p>He could sit at the table, or on the bed, but the desire for knowledge seats him next to Belial on a plush loveseat. For a den of sin, the workers practically get their own apartments. As if reading his mind, Belial grins, says, “We’re in here almost 24/7. The staff make sure we’re comfortable.”</p><p>“So if I break anything in here, it means I’m breaking <em> your </em> stuff,” Sandalphon surmises.</p><p>“We could start with the bed, if you like…” Belial trails, waving a hand back towards it. Sandalphon can’t help but take a glance. The sheets have been stripped and thrown to the side. Belial’s got his pants back on, pretending to be decent.</p><p>“I’m here to talk about Lucifer.”</p><p>Belial sighs. “If that’s your lead-in, you’re going to have to do a better job at getting me hard.”</p><p>“Anything gets you hard,” Sandalphon says, squinting at him over the mug.</p><p>“I’ll tell you one thing that doesn’t,” Belial begins, pointing a finger at the ceiling --</p><p>-- and Sandalphon pre-empts him. “Lucifer.” Belial brings that finger back down and mimes shooting a gun at him.</p><p>“Bingo.”</p><p>“And he’s the only one?”</p><p>“Morbid curiosity?” Belial remarks, turning to face him. Sandalphon meets him with a flat stare, but he just shrugs. “Hm, well… I like it rough, but I like it when everybody wants to be there. We’re not primals any more, so that definitely rules out animals and corpses --”</p><p>“So you were into those before,” Sandalphon says with narrowed eyes.</p><p>Belial puts a hand on his heart and raises his mug into the air. “I swear on the Crimson Horizon that I have never had relations with an animal, or a dead guy. And, ahhhh, that look says you don’t believe me… oh-kay then. Besides that…” He puts his mug on the coffee table, then sets his legs on the thing, too. Sandalphon sneers.</p><p>“I don’t like murder for pleasure and the excitement of infidelity was lost on me a long time ago.”</p><p>“As if a man like you would ever be married…”</p><p>“You’re really going for my jugular, Sandy!” Belial whines. “If there’s a ring on their finger, I tell them where they can go stick it.” Sandalphon raises a brow. Belial adds, “Down the hall. Mercedes is the one who enjoys cuckolding.”</p><p>“... I won’t even ask what that word means,” Sandalphon decides with great pains. He gets up to go fish around in his pants, still discarded near the bed, to retrieve his phone. He brings it back to the sofa and checks the time, checks his messages.</p><p>“You paid seven grand to spend your time around me texting?” Belial asks, sounding wounded.</p><p>Sandalphon scowls, dims his phone again, puts it face-down on the table. “No. Like I said, Lucifer. Talk.” He gestures with his wrist.</p><p>“What else is there to tell you that you don’t know now?” counters Belial, smoothing a hand through his black hair. “This iteration of him has been here for thirty years -- three more than me, by the way -- and never moved off this island. He attended online classes to get a certification in therapy. He spends his time counseling children and married couples and makes as much as I do in about a month.”</p><p>Sandalphon knows. Belial knows too. What Belial doesn’t know, but has probably already guessed, is that Sandalphon’s made attempts to approach Lucifer before. There was no recognition in that face when he came in for an initial, touch-base session. He’d paid well more than he should have to sit there for forty minutes and make up excuses while Lucifer studied him with a bland concern.</p><p>“Then. How do you know it’s true?” questions Sandalphon, tightening his hands around his mug. He leeches warmth from it, but the room’s too hot already. “How do you know that he’s… losing his kindness? He’s working to help people with their problems. That’s…” Heroic. It’s exactly the sort of thing he would picture Lucifer doing.</p><p>But Belial shakes his head. “Lucifer was always someone who preferred to be hands-off, not get down in the dirt. The fact that he’s making so much contact with people means he’s not worried about their problems latching on to him. And you know Lucifer, right? He wears every problem he sees. Wore, I guess.”</p><p>Sandalphon… does not like the sound of it. But had he not seen it himself? He had blamed the distant respect on Lucifer’s unfamiliarity, been too struck by confusion and loss to think more about it, but Belial’s argument seeps into his brain. He’s always been good at that.</p><p>Warily, Sandalphon pushes, “You could just be saying that to make sure I don’t go near him.”</p><p>Belial laughs! And he laughs. And he clears his throat, and in the most mayweather voice he says, “And why in the world would I give a damn what you do with him any more? He’s not my problem. You’re not my problem.”</p><p>“You’ve been watching him this entire time. You wouldn’t know all those things about him if you didn’t care…”</p><p>Belial stares up at the ceiling like Sandalphon is an idiot. He grows red around the ears and glares. He feels like an idiot, that’s for sure. Belial says, “You’re not the only one who loves Lucifer and goes flocking to him every time he’s born.”</p><p>… Lucilius.</p><p>Sandalphon grumbles some choice words into his cup. He finishes off the coffee, surprised when Belial takes the mug out of his hands and delivers both their cups to a sink tucked into the far corner. It’s a kitchenette not visible from the table or the bed.</p><p>“Does Lucifer know you? In this generation?” Sandalphon asks softly.</p><p>Belial crosses his legs when he sits down, wiggling his toes. “Of course. We grew up together. Went to the same school together. If I call, say I want to introduce him to someone, he’d be on his way before he could think about the consequences.” He slides his gaze up to Sandalphon and smiles. “But you’re not going to get that out of me unless you pay up.”</p><p>“I gave you all the money I had!” Sandalphon retorts. Belial tuts at him.</p><p>“I don’t want your money, Sandy.”</p><p>“Then what do you want?”</p><p>“Figure out something you can give me that I’d like. Dealer’s choice,” Belial says carelessly.</p><p>They sit in this awkward, warm silence that wears on Sandalphon far more than the soreness in his hips or his back. He hates this like he hates Lucifer not knowing him. He was never great at thinking up clever solutions. That wasn’t what he was designed for.</p><p>… but he’s skydweller now, you know? They’re more clever than they look.</p><p>“Lucilius,” Sandalphon says, rousing Belial’s attention at once. The man relaxes again when he follows with, “How often is he reborn?”</p><p>“I told you before. It really depends. Sometimes he comes back five years after his death, knocks on my door, kicks me in the face.” Only someone like Belial could look so fond at the thought. Only someone like Sandalphon would be allowed to see it, he thinks, because… they have a shared history, not always pretty. “I’ve waited more than a century before. I’ve heard about him living and dying before I could get my hands on him. I’ve seen him born blind, born in the wrong body, but whatever the circumstances, he always manages to…”</p><p>“... to?” Sandalphon says.</p><p>“... to stir up a little fun,” Belial finishes, like an exaltation on his tongue. He gives Sandalphon a playful look. “I’m not going to tell you how he’s changed the course of evolution. That would cost you way more than you could ever pay me in a lifetime. And if you’re just going to ask me questions, that’s all well and good, but… it won’t get you that meeting.”</p><p>“Who says I want a meeting? I’ve met him,” Sandalphon protests hotly.</p><p>That’s what he says. What he does is another matter entirely.</p><p>“Sandy,” moans Belial, some minutes later when Sandalphon’s sunk his mouth around his dick. He looks up, bobs his head up and down, uses his tongue like he remembers that Gran used to like. “Sandy,” Belial repeats. “You fucking suck at blowjobs.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Sandalphon replies, sucking on the balls and touching what his gag reflex won’t allow him to reach. It’s a slow, almost tender process. It could almost be mistaken as romantic, but Belial won’t let him go on with inhibitions. He raises his hips, and with little warning, he begins to fuck Sandalphon’s mouth.</p><p>“Ahhh. That’s better. Think of this as learning how to please your man, Sandy!”</p><p>He gags and saliva covers his mouth, and he can’t get a word out, much less a breath. The worst of it isn’t when Belial holds him down, holds him so close his nose brushes Belial’s pelvis. The worst of it is when warmth runs in his veins again, and Sandalphon makes a shameless sound when he undoes the robe to wrap a hand around himself.</p><p>Belial’s ecstatic at the sight. It spurs him to move his hips faster and drag Sandalphon in by the hair. It hurts. It makes his blood pump in his ears. He’s fairly certain he’s going to pass out several times, but when he’s on the edge of blacking out, Belial pulls back and lets him get in a few gasps of air. Then Sandalphon is back on his cock, sucking and shutting his eyes, toes curling-- finishing into his hand.</p><p>It only seems natural that Belial should want to pull back and decorate his face when he cums. Sandalphon expects it, but he doesn’t have to like it. When oxygen is running back through him and he isn’t coughing over the rug, Belial patting him on the back, he scrubs the cum off his face and flicks it at Belial in one sticky mess.</p><p>Belial just laughs.</p>
<hr/><p>“I love having fun with you,” Belial’s saying, taking his mouthwash back from Sandalphon when he’s done, “But a single blowjob won’t convince me. You’ll have to do better than that.”</p><p>Sandalphon, disposable toothbrush in his mouth, looks at him like he’s insane. Belial leans over the counter and smiles. “What? Did you have something else in mind?”</p><p>He gets his answer after a <em> very </em>thorough teeth-brushing. Sandalphon replies, “That wasn’t my idea.”</p><p>“Well, it wasn’t mine!”</p><p>“I mean,” he clarifies angrily, “That wasn’t -- I’m not trying to pay you with sex. I don’t <b>want</b> to pay you in sex. You’re a sex worker. There’s literally no point.”</p><p>“‘Figuratively’ no point,” Belial corrects. Sandalphon blinks at him. “‘Figuratively.’ The word ‘literally’ is what you say when something actually happens. In this case--”</p><p>“Oh, God. Fuck off,” Sandalphon moans, pushing his way out of the bathroom. Most distressingly, Belial follows. Sandalphon picks his phone up off the coffee table and throws himself at the bed, which has, suspiciously, had its sheets changed since he went into the bathroom. He looks around for the housekeep that isn’t there.</p><p>Belial slides into bed next to him, petting some of the wayward curls of Sandalphon’s hair. If it were anyone else, Sandalphon could fall asleep to the feeling. If it were anyone else… but it’s not. It’s Belial, and Sandalphon’s fucked him twice, and he spent all his saved-up money just for a chance to be here.</p><p>“Worn out, Sandy?” says the smooth voice next to him. Sandalphon turns his phone back on, wearily swiping away Djeeta’s four missed calls. She can wait. “I pegged you for a guy with more stamina. Maybe you just like missionary and falling asleep cuddling.”</p><p>“Lucilius.”</p><p>“Cil hates cuddling. I can’t ever convince him to do it with me. He doesn’t complain if he wakes up in my arms, though. Except for sometimes, he thinks I’m trapping him, and he tries to fight his way out--”</p><p>Gross. Stupid. No. Sandalphon forces his way through the anecdote. “Lucilius. You said he can be reborn any time, right?”</p><p>“Mhmmmmm.”</p><p>He glances up, and Belial’s watching him with a reserved look, no longer smiling like a maniac. He’s suspicious, but he doesn’t know where Sandalphon is going with this. That’s the ticket. “And you say he might sometimes have his memories, sometimes not. It’s all up to the whims of fate. Is that right?”</p><p>“As far as my limited observations go, yeah.” Belial blinks at him, then narrows his gaze. “Do you have something to add, Simple Sandy?”</p><p>“Singularities, or people we know who aren’t angels who get reborn -- they sometimes have different names. Gran. Djeeta. Right?”</p><p>Belial’s sitting up now, no longer lounging on one of his arms. “He wouldn’t give you the time of day in any universe. There’s something about you that stinks, Sandy. And he would’ve gone to Lucifer--”</p><p>“Unless he didn’t know about Lucifer, because Lucifer’s only ever been on this one island,” Sandalphon resumes. “And if he doesn’t have his memories, doesn’t have the same name, would he even have the inclination to look?”</p><p>Belial is very still and very quiet. He looks at Sandalphon in a real way, a sharp way, like a spiteful prayer on the edge of a cliff. “I looked already.”</p><p>“Sirius,” Sandalphon replies. “Not Cilius, or Lucilius.”</p><p>“... Sirius What.”</p><p>“Sirius…” Sandalphon pauses to check his phone. “Sirius Hesperus.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>Sandalphon feels the tug of a winning smile at the corner of his mouth. “You tell Lucifer about me, and I’ll give you his number.”</p><p>Belial is calculating, running his thousand-miles-a-second brain in quick succession. Whatever he concludes, he seems to find the business deal agreeable. “Sandy’s grown up,” he says, smiling a little.</p><p>“Yeah. Well.” Sometimes, the hands of fate decide one of your senior classmates should be the partner of Chaos.</p><p>But then Belial is pulling him out of his thoughts, touching his ten fingers to Sandalphon’s chin, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He drinks in the sight of Sandalphon’s awestruck confusion, and then he grins. “I’m just sealing the deal. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>And then, and then,</p><p>Sandalphon is kicking him out of bed, outraged. “I was saving my first kiss for Lucifer!”</p><p>“But not your first anal? Touching! Ow, ow! Stop kicking me!”</p><p>There doesn’t have to be a right question.</p><p>There’s no reason the answer can’t just be.</p>
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